How does a company that scores so highly with brand affinity and fit by partnering with Hilda Baci for its Gino Tomato mix and seasoning brand suddenly jump to using 2Face Idibia as the face of its next major food ad campaign? What exactly is the correlation between a newly launched Shawarma Mix product and a musical icon whose relevance, while legendary, doesn’t quite translate to the brand values that consumers associate GB Foods with?
These were the questions that flooded my mind when I first saw the bashing that the newly launched Bama Shawarma Mix campaign was receiving, while strolling through the streets of Mark Zuckerberg’s Facebook. And I must admit—I’d rather not be writing this piece. My preference, always, is to spotlight exceptional work: brand campaigns that break new ground, ads that demonstrate cultural intelligence, and creative executions that earn the attention they seek. But every now and then, a campaign veers so far off-course, so jarringly disconnected from its product, audience, and platform, that silence becomes complicity.
In the case of GB Foods’ latest campaign, silence would have meant endorsing a strategic misdirection too glaring to ignore. Here are some few of the less caustic comments I could to share from the over 2500 comments on the official Facebook page of Bama Mayonnaise.
“With this kind face how I won take chop the Bama?”
“I don’t think I will buy BAMA again, I don’t want my boys to eat it and one day behave like this 4face oooo.”
“People having issues with Tuface will not buy this Bama.”
“Una for choose another brand ambassador na. Una want make we make shawarma for our husbands make them turn to national……?”
As you may have guessed, these comments were in response to the promotional post for the all-new Bama Shawarma Mix. What should have been a celebratory product launch became an unintended PR flashpoint, drawing ridicule, moral disapproval, and a tidal wave of consumer pushback. While the intent may have been to leverage 2Face’s national fame and nostalgic appeal, the execution clearly struck the wrong chord with Bama’s core consumer base—largely women and family-oriented individuals—who couldn’t reconcile the brand’s wholesome identity with the public persona of the celebrity chosen to represent it.
When Image Conflicts with Identity
No doubt, the power of a celebrity endorsement remains formidable—if and only if the values of the endorser align with the values of the brand. This is the principle of brand fit. When done right, it results in campaigns that feel natural, believable, and persuasive. When done poorly, it undermines years of brand equity in just a few seconds of ad time.
Bama has built its identity around values such as wholesomeness, trust, nutrition, and family. It’s a brand mothers reach for when making food for their family. It is the kind of product that lives in the domestic sphere, where choices are made not just for taste, but for values.
2Face’s status as a musical pioneer is not in question. What is, however, is his fit as a brand ambassador for a product that is heavily marketed towards mothers, home-makers, and families—consumers who, in the age of conscious parenting and image sensitivity, are deeply invested in value representation.
Currently in the public eye not for music or philanthropy, but for his high-profile separation from long-time wife and partner, Annie Idibia (now Macaulay) and a budding relationship with Natasha Irobosa Osawaru, a politician and member of the Edo State House of Assembly, 2Face is seen as embodying values that clash with the conservative, home-centered image Bama has cultivated for years. Make no mistakes, beyond moral policing, this is about strategic misalignment.
In choosing 2Face, GB Foods might have assumed nostalgia and star power would carry the day. But what they underestimated is that in today’s consumer culture, values matter just as much as visibility. The Nigerian woman who feeds her children with Bama does not want a conflicted public figure representing a product she’s trusted for decades.
Perception and the Psychology of Consumer Backlash
Marketing, at its core, is psychological. It’s less about the product and more about the perception of the product—how it makes people feel, what it signals about their identity, and how it aligns with their values. When a brand distorts that perception, whether by tone-deaf advertising or questionable endorsement choices, the psychological contract with the consumer is breached. And when that happens, backlash is not only inevitable—it’s justified.
Consumers don’t just buy Bama because it’s creamy or well-priced. They buy it because it represents something stable, something they can trust—especially at a time where so much else feels uncertain. Introducing 2Face Idibia as the ambassador of this trusted brand triggered a sense of emotional betrayal.
There’s a term for this in behavioral science: cognitive dissonance. It occurs when individuals are presented with information that clashes with their existing beliefs or expectations. In this case, the wholesome image of Bama collided with the controversial persona of 2Face, creating discomfort in the minds of consumers. And instead of resolving that discomfort through acceptance, they chose rejection.
Brands in the FMCG sector, especially legacy ones like Bama, rely on brand equity—the accumulated goodwill and loyalty of their customers. Missteps like this erode that equity. Every comment that calls Bama “Baba Mama” in reference to 2Face’s baby mama saga chips away at decades of brand-building. Every mother who quietly swaps Bama for another mayo on her shopping list is a silent protest with real economic consequences. Consumer perception is fragile. Once broken, it’s not easily repaired. GB Foods must now ask itself: was the celebrity buzz worth the damage to brand trust? The public response suggests otherwise.
For brands like Bama, with a storied legacy stretching back decades, there is always a temptation to lean too heavily on nostalgia—to assume that familiarity alone is enough to guarantee continued relevance. But today, legacy without innovation is simply inertia masquerading as tradition. Indeed, nostalgia can be emotive, even powerful—but only when paired with relevance. On its own, it becomes a crutch. And in this case, it turned what could have been a strategic launch into a ‘memeable’ misfire.
A Lesson in Brand Alignment and Consumer Insight
Marketing is, at its core, a study in understanding people—what they want, how they feel, who they admire, and what stories they believe. In a country like Nigeria, where youth culture drives the pulse of commerce, music, and food, brands must not only observe the market but empathize with it.
Had GB Foods taken a deeper dive into the psychographics of the Nigerians they clearly intended to reach with Bama Shawarma Mix, the choice of ambassador might have been drastically different. It could have been anyone from a known chef, a rising street food content creator, a known voice in Lagos nightlife cuisine, or even a chef-influencer who’s reimagining everyday meals. It didn’t have to be a celebrity—it needed to be someone relatable, aspirational, and connected to the product’s promise.
Let me reiterate for the umpteenth time: this isn’t a knock on 2Face’s legacy. He remains an icon, but legacy doesn’t equal relevance in all contexts. Not every celebrity can sell every product. The messenger must reflect the message. The influencer must embody the influence you seek. And the era of celebrity-as-default is fading fast. Micro-influencers, niche content creators, real consumers with relatable stories—these are the voices building true equity. If the goal and brand was different, then perhaps the match would have landed better.
The Nigerian market is forgiving when brands show humility and return with a better offering. What’s unforgivable is tone-deafness cloaked in confidence. Indeed, GB Foods can still recover. The product, by most accounts, is good, innovative. If I am not wrong, it is the first of its kind…at least in this market. A simple pivot—perhaps re-centering the campaign around real shawarma vendors, student food creators, or even food delivery communities—could help restore some ground. Pair that with a social-led “Shawarma Hack” challenge, and the brand could ride a wave of co-creation back into relevance.
But the broader lesson is this: brand love is not a given; it’s earned. It’s earned through alignment, honesty, cultural intuition, and—above all—respect for the consumer’s voice. Nigerian audiences are no longer passive. They are savvy, expressive, and powerful. Ignore them at your brand’s peril.
Let the Bama saga be a learning curve—for GB Foods and for every brand planning to launch in a market that’s not only watching, but speaking back.